


Don't Make Me Mad

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Technology, Fanfiction, M/M, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rod gets a crash course in anger management and John takes roleplay to extremes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Me Mad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marlislash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlislash/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sga Reverse Big Bang](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739579) by [marlislash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlislash/pseuds/marlislash). 



> This is a Mensaverse AU, with Rod and geek!John, set a bit after _McKay and Mrs. Miller_. Created for the SGA Reversebang 2014, for the Avengers AU art by fanarts_series (marlislash).  
>  Huge thanks to Busaikko for the beta help.

   

<><><><><>

 

John, as usual, was being a dick.

“Whining won’t get you anywhere,” Rod said firmly. You had to be firm with John. “You did hit your head pretty hard when that alien pterodactyl-thing dropped you, and you know what Carson’s like.” Easier to let Carson take the heat for John being confined to the infirmary with concussion. John hated the infirmary – Rod knew he’d been hospitalised as a kid due to a heart condition, so that was probably why. Rod had hacked everyone’s files early on – knowledge was power, and it was just more efficient to know people’s backgrounds; it saved him making mistakes. Rod hated making mistakes.

“I’m gonna go crazy in here,” John said, scowling. His head was wrapped around with a crêpe bandage above his ears, covering the contusion on his forehead. It made his hair stick up even more wildly. He’d stuck his black-framed glasses back on over the bandage and was squinting angrily through them at Rod. What with the black eye, he looked like a cartoon character. “It’s bad enough I’m missing a bunch of MENSA meetings ’cause Carson won’t let us hold them here. I at least need my laptop to re-run those shield calculations.”

“Carson said you have to rest, John,” Rod said, “and apart from the head injury, that thing tried to take a chunk out of your leg – it could easily fester if you don’t take it easy for a while.” He tried to project calm reasonableness. It was one of the first techniques he’d taught himself in college during the Great McKay Makeover once it became clear that being obnoxious wasn’t doing his academic career any favors; genius wasn’t always enough. “I bet you’ve got a splitting headache, and peering at a laptop screen while you’re seeing double isn’t going to help–”

“I’m _not_ seeing double, goddamnit!”

“Are you upsetting my patient, Dr. McKay?”

Rod startled guiltily – Carson had snuck up on them. He tended to glide about the infirmary in his stocking feet when he wasn’t wearing operating room clogs, which to Rod’s mind gave him an unfair advantage. “No, no,” Rod said hastily. “John was wanting a computer but I imagine that’s not a great idea right now.”

“Oh, I think we can let him have his laptop,” said Carson, grinning chummily at John. “We dinna want a repeat of last time when he got into my workstation and hacked the medical database because he was bored. Took me weeks to track all the files down.”

“It was organized idiotically,” muttered John, looking mutinous. “Alphabetically, and with no cross-referencing – I just put it in base eight so’s to link it to the main city database. Anyway, I gave you a search algorithm to use.”

“Aye, John, but the search field only recognised Ancient, which none of my staff are fluent in,” Carson said, rolling his eyes at Rod.

Rod managed a noncommittal smile, so as not to piss John off too much by appearing to collude with Carson. John could be a bit prickly like that. He changed the subject, suppressing his annoyance at Carson for undermining him on the laptop issue. Still, if it kept John quiet while he got over the concussion, well and good. “I’ll go get your tablet then, but don’t upload any new programs, John, not while you’re concussed and on pain meds, okay? Run any changes past me first.”

John rolled his eyes, then winced. “Yeah, yeah, Dr. Micromanager. ’m just gonna redo those calculations and check the power grid stats. See if that new program I wrote’s making a difference.” He brightened. “Maybe play a little Sudoku.” His face fell again. “Gotta do something while you’re off on missions without me.”

“It’s not a _mission_ , John,” Rod said, sighing. John hated being left out of anything the team was doing. “We’re stood down from missions because you’re laid up, remember? We’re just going to explore that disused part of the city out on the South Pier, the bit that got damaged when the shield failed while Atlantis was submerged. It’ll be tedious and muddy – you’re better off here.” He gave John his best smile-and-shrug combo.

“Yeah, no problem,” said John sulkily. “Not like I’m so brain-damaged I don’t remember that’s where the nanovirus lab was.”  
  
Carson had started checking John’s vitals while they talked. He slipped John’s glasses off and flashed a maglite in the eye that wasn’t puffed up and purpling, then carefully spread the swollen eyelids on John’s bad eye and flicked his flashlight into that one as well. “Ow,” said John plaintively. “Way to blind a guy.” He fumbled his glasses on over the bandage again, looking young and a little vulnerable for a moment before he got them back in place.

“Sorry, lad,” said Carson. “We have to check.” He straightened and tucked the flashlight into a pocket. “That’s all fine, so I’ll leave you in peace. He’s right about the South Pier, Rod – you take care – we don’t want _you_ ending up in one of the beds here, do we?” Rod suppressed his irritation at the fussing and forced a smile. Carson turned back to his patient. “And be nice to my nurses now, John. No hacking your casenotes and writing sarcastic comments about their spelling, right?”

John nodded impatiently and waved him off, and Carson slipped away. “McKay? Nanovirus lab?”

Rod sighed. “We’re not going anywhere near that part of the pier – you know it’s all locked down.” John opened his mouth and Rod raised a hand. “We’ll be careful, all right? Teyla and Ronon’ll look after me, and Lorne’s assigned a couple of Marines for extra security. Zelenka’s coming, too.” Rod hoped that would placate him. John liked Zelenka; they were in MENSA together.

John drummed his fingers fretfully on the bed. “I hate this,” he muttered, glaring at his feet.

“Yeah, I know,” said Rod, trying for brisk yet supportive. “Look, it won’t be for long. Carson usually lets you out a couple of days after a head injury, if it’s not too bad.”

“He’d better,” said John darkly. “You’re not safe out there without me.”

“I do have two PhDs myself, John,” Rod said, gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, yeah,” said John dismissively. “But one’s in _astrophysics_. Might as well be in _philosophy_.” He put on a weird fake accent that Rod knew from experience was an attempt at mimicking Carl Sagan. “ _Science is a way of thinking much more than it is a body of knowledge_.”

“We’re not getting into _this_ again,” snapped Rod, tamping down a sudden flare of anger. “Math isn’t the answer to everything, John. There’s a place for big ideas.” He reined himself in. Damn, he didn’t usually let John get to him like this.

“Math is pure,” John said irritably. “It’s clean. None of that ‘Is it a particle? Is it a wave? No, look, it’s Superman!’ bullshit.” He rubbed his face tiredly. “So – laptop?”

“Yes, yes, I’m on it,” said Rod. He headed for John’s quarters, feeling guilty that he’d let John get so worked up. He was, literally, like a bear with a sore head when he had a concussion, and Rod knew better than to get into arguments with him, but the son of a bitch could be so goddamned annoying, harping on about math as the be-all and end-all.

 _Clear blue skies, clear blue skies,_ Rod repeated to himself as he walked, using the anger-management mantra he’d developed as a post-grad so as not to murder his professor who’d been a worthless sack of shit. All his life he’d been surrounded by morons, but he’d learned how to manage them. He’d gotten his doctorates and a string of government contracts, been selected for the Stargate program, and finally, finally, here he was in Atlantis. He was good at this, and people liked him, which in a place like this was no mean feat – there were still morons here, of course, but they were smart morons and all the more dangerous for it. Keeping them in check took all the social skills he’d been forced to develop across the years.

It took its toll. Carson was worried about his blood pressure, but Rod figured the strain of not snapping and yelling at the idiots when they were about to blow up the damn city had to go somewhere, since he couldn’t give it free rein. He thought briefly of Rodney, his alter in that other universe where they’d created the rift and almost destroyed his Atlantis and their own. That had been a few months ago, and he’d tried since then not to dwell on that version of himself, who behaved the way he would have if he hadn’t woken his ideas up and given himself a personality makeover. Rodney had been all rough edges and raw emotions, embarrassingly open and vulnerable. It made Rod cringe to recall how awkward and unsophisticated he’d been, even if it was fascinating to see an unmodified version of himself.

He palmed the doorplate to John’s room, shaking his head. You couldn’t be a leader if you lacked control, and it was frankly amazing that Rodney had been Chief Science Officer and hadn’t been fired for institutional bullying and harassment. Perhaps his universe wasn’t as politically correct as this one, but Rod’s Elizabeth certainly wouldn’t tolerate that sort of ranting and abuse, no matter how tempting it was at times when people were being exceptionally stupid. Rod picked up John’s tablet and a half-used Sudoku book, then as an afterthought, John’s aviator sunglasses. He probably had photophobia, what with the concussion, and it’d cheer him up to wear them in the infirmary.

Rod started back the way he’d come. John was very attached to the aviators, which he believed – wrongly – made him look cool. He’d had the lenses replaced with his own prescription, as without that he’d have been half-blind. Rod guessed it all went back to John’s thwarted ambition to be a pilot, back on Earth. It must have been tough for him to realize that the heart condition he’d had as a child would keep him out of the armed forces – that and his eyesight. But he’d turned to his second love, math, gotten his PhDs, and ended up on Atlantis, and Rod could only feel glad about that. John was annoying, but Rod had grown fond of him, skinny and stubborn though he was. He was team, and he let Rod forget the CSO façade and geek out sometimes – not that he was ever joining MENSA, though. Jesus.

When Rod got back to the infirmary John was asleep, mouth slightly open, snuffling softly through his nose. Rod felt a swell of affection, looking at him, still with his glasses askew over the bandage, scribbled numbers and equations on a pad beside his hand, the pen fallen from his lax fingers into a fold of sheet. Quietly, Rod tidied the pen and pad away onto the nightstand, and left the laptop there for when John woke up. He was tempted to take off John’s glasses and smooth his hair, but held back, not wanting to wake him. Anyway, they didn’t do that. Rod couldn’t afford to let himself have feelings about a teammate and one of his scientists, even if he did enjoy the play of John’s muscles under a t-shirt and think about his mouth a little more than was wise. But leadership meant sacrifices, and everyone knew it was lonely at the top.

Rod sighed and scrubbed a hand through his unfortunately receding hair; then, with a brief backward glance at John, now snoring faintly on his pillows, went to join the others in the ready-room, to gear up for their expedition to the South Pier.

  
<><><><><>

Lorne didn’t take long to check the room, reporting back to Rod outside the doorway.

“Seems just like the others we’ve explored, doc – some banks of empty storage shelves, and it’s damp with a lot of silt in the corners. Nothing dangerous I could find.”

“Right,” said Rod. “Nothing on my sensors either, but this one’s got a console which I’ll try to activate, so if you don’t mind sticking around, Major…”

“Sure thing, doc,” Lorne said easily. “Sheppard’d make my life very unpleasant if I let anything happen to you.” He grinned and Rod wondered for a moment if he meant…but no, John was well known for his almost fanatical loyalty to the team. Rod figured he’d gotten left out of things at school, what with being sickly and wearing glasses. He’d been thrilled when Rod asked him to join a gate team, although with his gene and ability to pilot the jumpers, it was a no-brainer to get him on board. Rod gave Lorne a manly grin with a hint of eye-roll, team leader to team leader, and picked his way through the muck to the free-standing console on a raised platform in the room’s center.

Fifteen minutes later he’d activated the console, switched a few crystals, and had most of the controls and readouts glowing. He’d managed to patch in his laptop and was running diagnostics. The system wasn’t like anything Rod had seen before, and he puzzled over the Ancient terminology on his screen. Was that the word for “crack”? No, more like “flaw”. Was it a repair unit?

Lorne turned away slightly and tapped his earpiece. “Lorne here…yes…where are you?...right.” He looked up at Rod. “Dr. McKay – Ronon and Teyla have found a flooded section. They want me to try and activate the drainage mechanism.”

“Yes, yes,” said Rod distractedly, waving a hand. “Probably ruined, but give it a try. I’ll be a while here.”

“Okay, won’t be long,” said Lorne. He tapped his ear again. “Lorne here. On my way, Teyla.” He headed for the door, but ran into Zelenka just outside. Rod was too engrossed in the instructions scrolling past to bother with their discussion. There was that word again – “flaw”, or was it “weakness”? And that was “barrier”, that one he definitely knew from the annoying warnings that flashed up when the database didn’t like the way you’d written a search string: “Barrier: Incorrect syntax. Restart algorithm.” Infuriating.

“Knee-deep in water, Ronon said,” he vaguely heard Zelenka say from the doorway.

“Yes, Teyla radioed,” came Lorne’s voice. “I said I’d try to get it to drain, if the pumping system isn’t broken. Want to come look at it?”

Rod tuned them out. He was pretty sure that the lever on the right was a jump-start for the system, although he was still pretty hazy on what the console was supposed to do. Repair flaws, or barriers, it seemed, but there was no machinery in the room to carry out any mechanical procedures so probably the whole set-up had been disused for millennia. Oh well, nothing ventured. Rod pressed the start-up buttons and flipped the lever.

Immediately, a low, buzzing hum filled the room. It made his ears itch deep inside, and Rod shook his head. There was a shout from the doorway and he turned, to see it filled with a shimmering force-field, Lorne and Zelenka peering through it from outside.

“Force-field!” shouted Zelenka. “What did you do?” – which was typical, blaming _him_ for some stupid malfunctioning piece of Ancient junk.

“You okay, Dr. McKay?” called Lorne. He touched the force-field then snapped his hand back, cursing and shaking it. “Ouch, shit!” He glanced at Zelenka. “Sorry, doc.”

“I don’t know!” yelled Rod in answer to their questions, furiously trying to call up something in the stupid, poetic and profoundly unclear Ancient text about a force-field and how to deactivate it. He tried powering down the whole unit, flipping the switch back to neutral, but there was no change – if anything, the irritating buzz inside his skull increased.

“Fucking Ancients and their idiotic fucking broken-down machinery!” he spat, and then a beam of blue light speared down onto the console podium from the ceiling, transfixing him. He could hear Lorne and Zelenka shouting from behind the force-field, then Lorne talking urgently on the radio to Teyla, but he was trapped, suspended three feet off the ground and gently rotating counter-clockwise, arms flailing and legs thrashing helplessly in mid-air.

_“Which primitive flaw do you wish to enhance and overcome?”_

It was a woman’s voice, disembodied, like the hologram who’d greeted them on arrival.

“Put me down, now!” yelled Rod. “Stupid fucking machine. Dear god, the Ancients were lunatics! Off, damn you, turn _off!_ ” Nothing happened, except that he rotated past the door again, where Teyla and Ronon had joined Lorne and Zelenka, all peering in through the shimmering barrier and arguing with each other. _Barrier_ , shit.

 _“Activation incomplete_ ,” the disembodied voice said sternly. _“Which primitive flaw do you wish to enhance and overcome?”_

“None! No flaws, you moronic heap of scrap metal. Put me down! Terminate program! End sequence!” He waved his limbs and tried to wrest himself bodily out of the beam, but it was like being gripped in a giant’s fist. Rage welled up in him at the awful feeling of helplessness, at looking foolish and losing it in front of his colleagues and Lorne, at his own goddamn idiocy in starting the system in the first place. Stupid, stupid, and now he was so very fucked, and he must look completely ludicrous, trapped like a bug stuck through with a pin. It was just like in grade school when the Dudson brothers used to catch him on the way home and rob him of his homework. One of them held him while the other emptied his school bag onto the sidewalk, knowing he’d always finished the assignments before heading home. Fucking bullying bastards, fucking know-it-all Ancients, how he hated them all, making him look bad, making him– “Stop it! Stop it this _instant_ , put me _down_!” he screamed, writhing and panting, literally seeing red.

 _“Initiating default transform based on prevailing affective state,_ ” the voice said implacably.

“No, no initiating!” gasped Rod. “Stop it, stop–” the buzzing intensified, filling his head, and he was juddering apart, spinning off, fading. The last thing he thought before darkness rose up and swallowed him whole was _John’s going to kill me_.

  
<><><><><>

Rod came to slowly, aware at first only of sound, of people talking.

“I do not know, Major, but system has shut down – or failed, I cannot be sure. I will not risk activating it after what happened to Rod. Is he harmed?”

“Can’t see any injuries. Pulse is good – a bit fast, but that’s to be expected.” That was…Lorne? And Zelenka.

“Dr. McKay?” He felt a touch to his cheek. “Dr. McKay? Are you awake?” Teyla, sounding as though she was kneeling beside him. Oh crap, he must be on the floor, which was covered in 10,000 year old gunk and probably microbes, and…. why was it so dark? Christ, what if that machine had blinded him? He felt his chest tighten and clawed vaguely at Teyla’s sleeve. She let him, for once – usually she kept her distance, except when they were sparring. Oh, this was bad. If he was blind, how would he manage to… Oh, right, eyes shut. Rod pried his eyelids open then immediately screwed them shut again; Lorne’s P90 light was shining right in his face.

“Sorry,” said Lorne, moving it aside.

“He okay?” asked Ronon, behind him.

“Coming round,” said Lorne. “You get through to the Control Room yet?”

“Yeah,” said Ronon. “They’re sending Beckett.”

“Well, it’s not likely he’s got any spinal injuries – he only fell three feet. I say we move him out where the light’s better, get him closer to the transporter.” Rod felt Lorne shifting around. “Ronon, get his feet?”

“Quicker this way,” said Ronon, right beside him, and Rod felt himself hauled up and slung over Ronon’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He tried to protest, but only managed a vague moan and some uncoordinated twitching.

“At least he’s moving all his limbs,” said Lorne, from behind him somewhere. All Rod could see was a close-up of Ronon’s leather coat, not that he could get his eyes to focus.

He was just starting to feel nauseated from jouncing around on Ronon’s shoulder when he was decanted unceremoniously onto the floor, then pushed and pulled onto his side. “Wha…?” he managed.

“Dr. McKay?” It was Teyla again. “Are you all right?”

Rod tried to reply but his tongue felt thick and heavy, and his arms and legs still weren’t working properly. “Aggh. Nnn,” he managed. “Wat…”

“Water?” asked Teyla, uncapping her canteen and holding it to his mouth. He swallowed, then spluttered, water dribbling down his face. God, this was humiliating.

“Maybe we better wait for the doc,” said Lorne. “What did that last bit mean? What it said after it dropped him?”

“I heard ‘Default transform option exceeds acceptable risk levels’. Then something about a citizen?” offered Zelenka.

“Yes,” agreed Teyla. “I believe it said that a ‘fail-safe device’ was provided, and that it was ‘keyed to the citizen’,but I do not know what that means. Could it be this pendant I found on the platform beside him?”

“What citizen?” asked Lorne. “There’s over three hundred of us in the city these days.”

“May I see that?” Zelenka’s voice. “Hmmm. There is no button, just a jewel, possibly similar to the crystals. Is most likely gene-activated.”

Rod was fed up with eavesdropping on his own life, and finally his thoughts were clearing and his muscles had stopped tingling. He coughed and tried to sit up. “Urrgh,” he croaked, and managed to raise a shaky hand and rub at his face. “Help m’up off th’ floor. Filth.”

“It may not be wise to move too much, Dr. McKay,” murmured Teyla, helping steady him. “Perhaps we should wait for Dr. Beckett.”

“’m all right,” said Rod. “Sick of lyin’ around.” He sounded petulant, even to his own ears, which was what he hated most about being ill or incapacitated – it made him feel like a child, and he had only crappy memories of childhood.

He looked around. They were outdoors, on an open deck outside the building housing the labs they’d been investigating, a bank of transporters over to the left, and the South Pier stretching away to the right, dotted with structures and small towers, some in the distance visibly damaged and half collapsed. Rod shut his eyes against the sun, then opened them when one of the transporters chimed.

“That’ll be the doc,” said Lorne, but no medical team emerged from the doors as they slid open. Instead, John limped out, favoring the leg where the flying reptile had bitten him, bare footed, his head bandaged, still in infirmary scrubs.

“Whoa,” said John, staggering a little and slumping back against the wall. His face was pasty gray, and he looked fit to collapse any second. “Heard on the comms. Rod? You okay?”

Rod found his voice. “Oh for…you idiot! You’re not supposed to be out of bed, let alone the infirmary! What the hell are you _doing_ here?” A wave of fury flooded through him – at John for being so careless with his health, at himself for being an idiot and triggering the damn machine, at the lunatic Ancients for making dangerous toys all over the galaxy then fucking off and leaving their lethal junk behind.

He tried to tamp down the anger as he always did but it wasn’t working. Maybe he was just too stressed, at the end of his tether worrying about John and the Wraith and keeping a 10,000 year old city afloat, but he couldn’t seem to control it. It felt like heat rising up inside him, incandescent, all-consuming, and something weird was happening, he seemed to be swelling up – oh no, not anaphylaxis, how could it be–

  
<><><><><>

John watched, startled out of his nausea and dizziness, as Rod yelled angrily at him for playing hooky from the infirmary, then suddenly transformed into a giant green monster. Part of John’s admittedly battered brain was going _oh crap, nanites!_ but the part that was still a seven year old boy was filled with _awesome, that’s the Hulk!_

The others scattered, scrambling for cover, as the monster – Rod? – roared, spun around and charged off down the South Pier, making the deck vibrate and shudder as he bounded over small buildings and smashed through piles of debris. Incoherent shouts and roaring echoed back, and John could see rubble from a collapsed tower being thrown high in the air and out to sea. Every so often there was a flash of green and the Hulk was briefly visible leaping from roof to roof or climbing a tower.

Maybe the concussion was worse than he’d thought and he was delirious? John shook his head, then clutched the wall and waited out a wave of nausea, vowing not to do _that_ again. “What the hell did you do to McKay?” he asked dazedly.

Teyla appeared at his elbow, steadying him, and Ronon braced him on the other side. “We did nothing,” Teyla answered. “Dr. McKay activated a console in a disused laboratory and was caught in a beam of some sort. We were locked out of the room by a force-field.” She frowned. “Truly, he is as bad as you at accidentally activating Ancestor technology.”

“Looks like in those comics you gave me,” said Ronon. Ronon liked comics. His grasp of English was a little idiosyncratic, with an odd mix of science and math jargon combined with slang – and worse – from the Marines. Comics worked pretty well for him, and he liked saying the sound-effects out loud, muttering BAM! SPLAT! KAPOW! as he read.

“Yeah,” said John. “The Hulk. But he can’t be – that’s all made up. It’s not _real_.”

Ronon squinted down the pier where resounding crashes sounded and clouds of dust were rising. “Sounds pretty real to me.”

The transformer behind John pinged, and Carson Beckett emerged, followed by a couple of nurses with a gurney. Carson looked around. “Where is he? I thought you said he was–”

“Uh, he ran off, doc,” said Lorne, a little sheepishly. “That’s him down there.” He waved a hand at the end of the pier where something green and shrouded in dust clouds was hurling blocks of rubble about. The deck shook faintly under them.

“You’ll have to run that past me again, Major,” said Carson, looking baffled. “And what’s that unholy racket? Is there a demolition team at work? I should have been informed – you know the rules for high-risk operations, Major Lorne.”

“It’s a one-man demolition unit,” said John.

“Colonel Sheppard,” said Carson sternly. “I expected we’d find you here, laddie, when we got the call about Rod and Marie said you’d vanished. Get on that gurney this instant!” He pointed at the bed, glowering threateningly at John.

“Can’t,” said John. “We got a situation here.”

“Where’s Rod, anyway? Did you leave him in the lab where it happened? I trust someone’s with him?” Carson looked around at them all, frowning.

“Turned into the Hulk,” said Ronon. He hooked a thumb at the commotion and dust clouds in the distance. “That’s him there.”

“Aye, have your wee joke,” said Carson crossly, “but we really must get him back to the infirmary if an Ancient machine’s zapped him. Come on now, where is he?”

“I’m afraid that Ronon is correct, Dr. Beckett,” said Teyla. “Dr. McKay did indeed turn into the…Hulk. Or at least, into a large green monster of some sort. That is him, wreaking havoc at the end of the pier.”

“Mother of god,” said Carson. “This fucking galaxy.” He sat down heavily on the gurney.

“Ah,” said one of the Marines – John didn’t know his name. “Ah, Major Lorne?”

“Yeah, Jorgensen?”

“What if he, you know, comes back, sir. Back here.”

Carson looked even paler, and John cursed his concussion. He wasn’t going to be able to wrangle any sort of Rod, let alone a hulkified version, in this state.

“Could stun him,” suggested Ronon.

“If he’s really like the Hulk, that’s just gonna annoy him,” said John. He waved in the direction of the crashing and roaring. “Evidence suggests he’s got the same superpowers, so awesome though your stunner is, I don’t think it’s gonna slow him down any.” Ronon smirked, then narrowed his eyes at the distant commotion.

“There is this,” said Teyla, holding up some sort of necklace. “Perhaps it is the ‘fail-safe’ that was mentioned?”

“Pretty clear why we need one, now,” said Lorne.

“But who is the ‘citizen’?” asked Zelenka. He’d positioned himself strategically at the doors of one of the transporters, John noticed. Pretty smart, but then that was Zelenka for you. “The system said the fail-safe was ‘keyed to the citizen’. Did it mean Rod?”

“More like the operator,” said Lorne. “Maybe it’s an emergency off switch, that this ‘citizen’ can initialize. I dunno – gene-holders? Guess it’d be the gene holders.”

Zelenka shook his head. “The voice was quite specific. Not citizens – ‘the citizen’, singular. Someone the city recognizes as like original inhabitants.” He looked at John and narrowed his eyes. “I think it is you, John. You have gene expression closest to the Ancients.”

“Sir?” said the other Marine. “Uh, I think we’re gonna need that fail-safe pretty soon.” The deck began quaking ominously. Oh crap, thought John, it was like with the T-Rex in _Jurassic Park_.

Lorne snapped into action. “Civilians into the transporters, now! Clear the area!” The Marines herded Zelenka, Carson and the nurses inside, gurney and all. Teyla ignored the order, glaring, and Ronon gave the Marines a look from under his brows and they backed off. Teyla pressed the pendant into John’s hand as the Hulk (Rod!) emerged from the dust cloud and began pounding down the deck towards them.

“Activate it!” yelled Lorne over the racket. He and the Marines raised their P-90s and Ronon lifted his blaster. “For Christ’s sake, Sheppard, switch him off, it’s supposed to be a fail-safe!”

“Don’t wanna _kill_ him,” protested John.

“Just fucking _do_ it, Sheppard,” shouted Lorne, almost drowned out as the Hulk roared, closing fast. “Can’t let him get into the populated areas like this. Turn him _off_!”

Teyla nodded sharply, and John closed his hand around the jewel and thought _on – no, off – deactivate him, change him back_ , as hard as he could.

The Hulk towered over them now, every thudding step an earthquake, then suddenly he seemed to implode, vanishing, and Rod lay collapsed on the deck before them.

Teyla hurried over and checked him. “He is breathing, and does not appear harmed. He seems to be unconscious.”

Lorne tapped his radio. “Carson? We got him under control….yeah. Okay, good.” He looked up. “They only went down a few levels. Coming right back.”

In the end, John had to ride on the gurney, Rod’s head in his lap. Carson wouldn’t let him try to walk, and if John was honest, he wouldn’t have made it.

“You sure he’ll be safe, doc?” asked Lorne dubiously. “I need to touch base with Dr. Weir and Col. Sumner about all this. I mean, I know he’s Rod now, but we don’t know what triggers it.”

“He got pissed,” said Ronon, who was pushing the gurney while one of the nurses steered it. “With Sheppard, for being out of bed.”

“Admittedly,” added Teyla, “it had been a trying day. I think that was the last straw.”

“I’ll sedate him, just as soon as he’s been checked and I’m sure it’ll do no harm,” said Carson. “And we have the – what d’ye call it?”

“Fail-safe,” said Zelenka. “Emergency off-button.”

“Yeah,” said John. “I’ll stop him Hulking out.”

“ _You_ ,” said Carson forcefully, “ _caused_ him to Hulk out, laddie, by being a bloody eejit. You’ll be _sleeping_ , if I have anything to do with it.” John pouted.

“It is indeed a dilemma,” said Teyla, frowning. “Dr. Sheppard appears to be the only one who can stop this worrying transformation, but is also the person most likely to trigger it.”

“Hey,” John protested. “Am not. Rod’s always muttering about idiots in the labs. He doesn’t just get pissed at _me_.” Teyla levelled a glance at him. “Well, not _all_ the time,” he added.

Lorne sighed. “Oh boy. I’m so not looking forward to _this_ debriefing.”

  
<><><><><>

“Whaa?” slurred Rod. “Nguh?” He sat up, rubbing his eyes and peering around. It looked like a nondescript Ancient bedroom, but not his own room. Where was he?

“Hey, buddy,” said a voice, and John’s arm steadied him, giving him a canteen which he drank from eagerly, splashing a little down his shirt. “Take it easy, okay? No sudden moves.”

Rod’s eyes widened. “Why? Am I injured?” He peered down at himself and rolled his shoulders experimentally, then wriggled his toes. “I don’t _feel_ injured.”

“Nah, not injured, so much…” said John. “How _do_ you feel?”

“Fine. Well, I’m thirsty, and famished, so my blood sugar must be…huh, that’s weird. I don’t _feel_ hypoglycemic.”

“Yeah, Carson said he gave you a glucose drip or something.”

“I was on an IV? Why?”

“You…kinda passed out there, buddy. You don’t remember what happened?”

“It’s hazy from when we were in the lab on the South Pier. Oh wait, I think I turned a console on and…yes, I remember – I got caught in a beam. Then…hmmm. I vaguely recall waking up and…were you there? But you were supposed to be in the infirmary.” He rubbed his face. “Damn it, why can’t I remember anything else?” He looked around again. “And where are we?”

“Don’t stress yourself out – you gotta stay calm,” said John, frowning. “All that was a couple days ago. Carson’s had you sedated in the infirmary since then but Elizabeth and Sumner didn’t want you there when you came to, so I got them to let me stay with you out here. We’re in some old residential rooms on the South Pier – it’s been opened up ’specially. There’s no one else here, just you and me.”

“Why? Oh god, tell me it’s not a nanovirus again! Are we contagious?” Rod clutched at John’s arm.

“Hey, no, nothing like that. Look, I’ll tell you, but you really gotta stay calm, okay? It’s just…you’ve got a condition that comes on if you get pissed. You’ll be fine if you stay calm.”

Rod stared at John. “A condition? What condition?”

John made a vague up and down gesture. “It was that beam you got caught in. It makes you…change. Sometimes. When you’re mad, we think, but it only happened once so far. You, well, you kind of transform.”

“Oh my god it _is_ nanocytes, isn’t it?”

“Deep breaths, buddy,” said John, rubbing Rod’s back soothingly, which was weird, but also nice. “Nope, no nanotech involved. Carson hasn’t got the faintest idea how it does work. He kept muttering about putting you under the quantum scanner, but–”

“No, that’s broken,” said Rod. “It blew out a crystal and we’re looking for a replacement. But what sort of transformation is it? Oh shit – it’s not Ascension, is it? Those fucking Ancients were nuts about–”

“Hey, hey, not Ascension,” said John quickly, cutting Rod off as he started working his way into a satisfying rant. He didn’t usually let himself indulge, but this was John, and Rod was trying to stay calm, but how could you stay calm about the fact that if you didn’t stay calm you’d turn into…

“What?” Rod demanded. “What do I turn into?”

“Um,” said John, looking shifty. “You sure you’re ready? Maybe take a few deep breaths?”

“Just fucking _tell_ me,” said Rod, between his teeth.

“Uh. The Hulk. You turn into the Hulk.”

“I…what? You’re saying that if I get annoyed I turn into a giant green rage-monster?”

John see-sawed a hand. “Not just _annoyed_ , like. More when you’re angry, seriously pissed, that sorta thing.”

“But…the _Hulk_?”

“Yeah, buddy. I have to say, you were pretty damn awesome. You really trashed the far end of the pier.” He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s okay – it was already ruined from the shield failing and all, so no worries.”

“No worries? I’m going to turn into the Hulk but _no worries_? I’ve been altered in some bizarre way unknown to science so I’m a fucking fictional character, but _no worries_?” Rod flailed, then brushed John off, too agitated to stay on the bed, and began pacing.

“Whoa, hey there,” said John, “Cool it, okay? Or, er, maybe we better go outside.”

“Oh yeah, let’s go outside, that’ll solve everything,” agreed Rod viciously, wrenching open the door and striding off down a short hallway to the main entrance which slid open with a hiss as he neared the doors. He walked out a few yards onto the deck then turned, hands on hips, glaring back at John who’d emerged into the sunlight as well, shielding his eyes and squinting. “And you, you’re concussed! You should be in the infirmary!”

“Oh man, this is how it started last time. Look, no. Carson released me – I’m a lot better now. He kind of made me sleep the whole time you were out cold, so I’m all rested up.” He spread his hands. “Seriously – I’m fine.”

Rod sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Right, right, you’re fine, I’m fine…oh no, wait. I’m _not_ fine, I’m the _Hulk_.”

“Well, not right now, you’re not,” John said pedantically. “You’re Bruce Banner right now, I guess.”

“Jesus, as though that’s any better! A crazy physicist geneticist, with a monster for a father!” Rod paused. “Hmmm, maybe there are some similarities. Not that my father was an actual monster, but he was certainly a dick.”

John grinned a little bitterly. “Yeah, join the club.” He looked relieved though, maybe as Rod hadn’t hulked out yet.

“Look,” said Rod. “It’s probably all a mistake. This bullshit with the Hulk’s just too hard to credit, even if this _is_ Pegasus and I should know by now there’s no limit to the weird. But I mean, the Hulk? There’s no way the Ancients could have programed _that_ sort of transformation into their tech – it’s a recent fictional creation! Maybe you all got roofied by some malfunctioning machine and had a mass hallucination. It’s a damn sight more likely than me turning into the Hulk. The conservation of mass principle alone argues that–”

“I know what I saw,” said John, slouching back against the wall. He looked tired, his skin pale around the white dressing taped to his forehead. Rod frowned – recovered, my ass. No one got over a concussion that fast, but John would do anything to get out of the infirmary.

“Okay, then let’s test it,” said Rod, crossing his arms and lifting his chin pugnaciously. “We’re both scientists, so let’s test this ridiculous hypothesis you’re trying to sell me. Make me mad.”

“What?” John squinted up at him and adjusted his glasses. “Hell, no, the whole point’s to _stop_ you from–”

“C’mon, John, I’m not playing along with this crap unless I get proof.”

“But you’re not gonna remember it afterwards, anyway,” John blew out a frustrated breath. “I mean, Radek gave me a digital camera to record any changes, but you’ll probably just say I photoshopped the goddamn images or something.”

“Not if you leave them on the camera. Take one of me now, then – _if_ I change – take some shots right after. That’d be convincing. C’mon – it’ll be like when you pushed me off the balcony that time we tested the personal shield.”

John fished around in the leg pocket of his BDUs and extracted a small camera. He fiddled with it for a minute, then raised it. “Say cheese.”

“Gorgonzola,” said Rod, with a smirk. The camera clicked.

“Oh, hey,” said Rod. “Talking of the personal shield, how come you’re here at all? I mean, don’t get me wrong – I’m grateful for the company and the explanation, ludicrous though it is, but if this nonsense is for real, it can’t be safe for you if I Hulk out. How in hell did you get them to agree?”

“I got this,” John said, lifting a pendant out of the neck of his shirt, where it had been hanging with his gate team dog tags. “The room that zapped you left it as a fail-safe. It’s keyed to me as the gene-holder closest to the Ancients. It’s kind of an off button.”

“Off button?” said Rod nervously. “It turns me off?”

“Wouldn’t wanna do _that_ , buddy,” said John with a flirty smirk, and okay, that was kind of new. “Nah, it turns off the Hulk transformation, that’s all.”

“Oh, well, okay,” said Rod. “That’s good.” He was feeling a little flushed. It was just the sun, probably – he’d been out in it too long. He shaded his eyes. “I’m getting all kinds of sunburnt here, so we’d better hurry this along.”

“Any time you’re ready, buddy,” said John, lifting camera in one hand and pendant in the other. There was a pause, while Rod stared at the deck. “Ah, Rod?” asked John.

Rod crossed his arms again, chin raised. “I can’t just get angry on _demand_ , John. Do you have any idea how much work I’ve done across the years _not_ to get angry? I’m so used to tamping it all down by now I don’t know how to let it out. You can’t use that thing to trigger me?”

“Nope – it’s just an off-switch.” John let the pendant fall back around his neck and scratched his chin. “So, um, what usually gets you mad? ’cept for me, that is.” He smirked. “Oh, hey, I know. Creationists. You barely held it together when Ronon broke his foot and that Marine we had on the team kept banging on about alien wildlife being ‘god’s miracles’.”

“Well, he was certainly a complete moron, but the memory doesn’t seem to be raising my ire very much.” Rod frowned. “I don’t know. Bad science, sloppy thinking, idiots trying to kill us all by wiring up the ZPM relays ass-backwards–”

“Wraith worshippers,” offered John helpfully, “or the Genii, especially Kolya, or hell, the Wraith themselves.” He cocked his head. “This working?”

“No,” said Rod. “It’s like – of course I hate all those things, but right now it’s just kind of an intellectual exercise.” He waved a frustrated hand at his head. “It’s all up here, just memories, kind of a distant dislike. I’m too used to controlling it.”

Rod came over to where John was slumped against the wall. “You look dead on your feet. You really shouldn’t be out of the infirmary at all, John. Come on, sit down for a bit.” He helped John to sit, then slid down beside him. It was cooler here, shaded by the wall.

“The weird thing is,” Rod said after a while. “When I was a kid I wanted to _be_ the Hulk. All that power to smash and crash and jump and pound…”

John shot him a glance and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Sounds like you’ve been bottling things up for a while.” He looked out across the deck again, towards the toppled tower. “Me, I wanted to be Iron Man.”

Rod snorted. “Yeah, figures you’d want to fly.” He grinned slantwise at John. “You’d look good in red and gold.”

John shrugged. “Wasn’t so much the outfit, although that’d be pretty cool, with the jets and all. No, it was the arc reactor-powered electromagnet I wanted. For, y’know, my heart.” He looked down and fiddled with his glasses again, like he always did when he was nervous. “Not that it would’ve worked for my valve problem, but I was just a kid. I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, right,” said Rod. “Yes, I can see how, um.” He shot John an anxious look. “But it’s all okay now, right? The heart thing?”

“Yeah. I had surgery in the end – I'm not even on meds now. But the Air Force takes that sort of thing seriously in a potential pilot, especially with my astigmatism.” He shrugged. “Lucky I had the math as my second string.”

Rod looked down at his hands. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you became a scientist, John, and ended up here. Sorry about the flying though.”

“ ’S’okay,” said John, shoulder-bumping him companionably. “I got the jumpers now – they’re pretty cool.”

“Yes they are,” agreed Rod, and they shared a conspiratorial grin. John’s shoulder and arm was pressed against Rod’s. It felt good. Warm. “Well,” said Rod after a moment, clearing his throat. “This is getting us nowhere with the hulk-out experiment.”

“Why did you, you know, want to be the Hulk?” asked John. “When you were a kid?”

“Like I said, Dad was a dick – controlling, vindictive, and jealous because I was way smarter than him. He made my life hell, and Mum wasn’t much help, she just drank too much and argued with him. I had to learn not to show it when I was angry. Had to push it all down. That’s why the Hulk – he was angry _for_ me with all the POW! SMASH! RRROAR! stuff.” John snickered as Rod made the sound effects. “I went off the rails around age sixteen – that’s when I went to college and I acted out a fair bit, had a real smart mouth. I got a reputation, got kicked off a couple of programs, so finally I wised up and went back to holding it all inside again. Took me most of a year to retrain myself. I had a girlfriend who was pretty cool – she helped socialise me.”

“Don’t tell me,” said John. “She was a blonde, right?”

“No she was not. She was brunette, as a matter of fact.”

“Huh, there’s hope for me yet,” muttered John, and when Rod shot him a startled glance, he was blushing, ears flushed pink, and cleaning his glasses furiously. Before Rod could say anything he blurted. “Talk about your dad some more. Might work as a trigger.”

Rod made a face. “ _So_ not my favorite subject. But, yeah, worth a try.” He paused, staring down at his hands. “This one time, when I was about eight, I made this elaborate project for school. It was kind of a perpetual motion machine – I mean not really, as you can never overcome friction, but it got pretty close. I’d almost finished it and had left it on the kitchen table to work on the next day, but it was gone when I got up. I found it in the trash can where he’d thrown it. It was all smashed up, completely destroyed. When I yelled at him about it he said I wasn’t the only one using the kitchen and he’d had it with clearing away my messes. Said I was selfish and thoughtless. I kind of had a melt-down and he grounded me. I missed the science fair – I’d been saving up to go to it for months. After that I reverted to passive aggression. That’s what the working model of the nuclear bomb was about, the one that put the CIA onto me. It was a message for Dad.” Rod took a shaky breath. “The thing is, when I looked in the trash can for my perpetual motion project it wasn’t just broken from having been thrown in there. He’d taken a hammer to it as well, made sure to smash every single component.”

“Christ,” said John. “What a bastard. Okay, so think about how you felt looking into that trash can and realising what he’d done. Think about how you felt yelling at him.”

Rod made a face, and sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t–”

“Quit the deep breathing,” said John. “Just go with it. I got your back.”

“Don’t feel too good,” said Rod tightly, head between his knees. “Feel weird, kind of hot.”

He dimly felt John scooting away, felt something happening, heat and confusion and rage at his father, wanting to smash his smug face in. The last thing he heard was a roaring in his ears.

  
<><><><><>

“Only five minutes this time,” said John.

“Huh?” said Rod groggily, pulling himself up to sit, knees bent as he knuckled his eyes.

“Five minutes you were out cold after I zapped you and you changed back. To Rod, I mean. You came to a lot faster than last time.”

“Did I?...” Rod made an all-encompassing “Hulk out” gesture.

“Oh yeah, it’s all right here in living color. Take a look.” John passed the camera across.

“Oh my fucking god,” said Rod, staring at the images. “That’s…it’s…I’m so _green_.” He stared at John in despair. “I’m the color cretinous comic-book producers thought was shorthand for ‘mutated by gamma rays’.” He peered at the camera again.

“Hey,” said John, looking hurt. “Comics are awesome.”

“Yes, yes,” muttered Rod, still engrossed in the images. “Granted. But I’d have been happier not actually being _in_ one.” He sighed. “And I still don’t see how the Ancients could build in a transformation to something that didn’t exist 10,000 years ago.”

“I already figured that part out. The machine got it from you, I reckon,” said John. “Lorne said the voice went on about overcoming primitive flaws. Must’ve read you somehow and picked up on the anger issues and stuff about Hulk in your memories.”

“So, what, it’s turning me into a rage monster as some sort of _lesson_?” Rod fought down an urge to throw the camera across the deck, thrusting it at John instead. “And fuck the Ancients, just fuck them. With their horrible oatmeal-colored clothing and running away from the Wraith and their death-trap experiments and stupid, narrow, uncomfortable beds!”

  
<><><><><>

“Three minutes twenty seconds,” said John, when he came around. “Definitely getting shorter. I’ll graph it but I reckon pretty soon you won’t pass out afterward at all.”

“Crap,” groaned Rod, pulling himself up. “I Hulked out again?”

“Yep,” said John. “You were ranting about the Ancients and then, whammo. I zapped you pretty quickly though so that might be why the shorter recovery time. Have to control for that variable next time.”

“I’m not your goddamn science project!” snapped Rod.

“Yeah, you kind of are. Someone’s gotta help you figure out what’s going on, so we can fix it,” John said, snottily. “And I’m the smartest at coding and math around here so you’re just going to have to work with me.”

“Oh all right, Jesus.” Rod buried his face in his hands. “You realise that it _is_ a fucking Ascension machine? Well, not for Ascension as such–”

“–but a way to prepare yourself, yeah,” said John, nodding. “Deal with your anger so you can leave all that shit behind and ascend to a higher plane. Natch.”

“There’s no ‘natch’ about it! It’s insane! They were completely insane!“

“Breathe, Rod,” said John. “We did the experiment. Now we gotta try and help you _not_ to Hulk out all the time. You’re going to have to control that anger, but not just by bottling it up. That can’t be good for you.”

“Yeah, good luck with _that_ ,” said Rod. “Bottling it up’s all I know how to do. How am I going to get in touch with it without bottling it up, and yet not turn into a scary green monster? It’s illogical!”

“Cool it, Spock,” said John. “What we need is some specialized help.”

“Any chance the specialized help could bring dinner? I’m starving.”

“We got MREs,” said John.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  
<><><><><>

“You are looking well, Dr. McKay,” said Teyla formally, repositioning his arms until she was satisfied with his pose.

“Ow – look, I know you’re the yoga expert, but are you sure the human body’s meant to bend like this? And I assume that by ‘well’ you mean ‘not green’.”

“You are not trying hard enough,” said Teyla sternly. “It is crucial that you attain control over your emotions so as not to pose a danger to others.” Rod bit back a retort – he found it hard to talk to her when she went all formal on him. He figured she was worried – she always got more stilted when she was stressed. “I prefer your natural skin-color, but the green was very…striking,” Teyla said, pressing down firmly on his lower back.

Rod’s knee skidded out from under him and he collapsed onto the mat. “Look, I know yoga’s supposed to help with stress,” he panted, “but I repeat – ow! There’s a reason I abandoned it back in college.”

Teyla frowned. “This is not yoga, as far as I understand yoga from the classes Dr. Biro takes. It is an Athosian prelude to meditation, to stretch the muscles before relaxing the mind.”

“Oh great, so that’s on the agenda next. Upright napping while knotted like a pretzel! I don’t see why I can’t just go back to bottling everything up – it was a lot simpler!”

“But not good for your health. Your blood pressure–”

“Is probably sky-high right now, what with the contortions.” Rod rolled his eyes. “Oh hell, all right, I’ll make the effort. But only because you can snap me like a twig.”

“Indeed,” said Teyla with a slight edge to her voice. “You would do well to remember that.”

  
<><><><><>

“Why do all these anger-management techniques involve actual pain?” Rod complained, flat on his back on the matting. Ronon loomed over him, grinning. He and a couple of Marines had lugged the mats in from the transporter and turned one of the common areas on the South Pier into a workout room.

“C’mon, McKay, that was nothing,” Ronon said, leaning down to give Rod a hand up. He threw over the bantos that had gone flying when Ronon tripped him and swept his legs out. Rod caught one and dropped the other.

He picked it up, scowling. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get pissed with you for hitting me, and Hulk out?”

“Nah,” said Ronon cheerfully. “Don’t think it’s gonna happen if you’re sparring. It’s when you hold it in you go Hulk on us.”

“You hope,” muttered Rod, circling Ronon warily, bantos outstretched. “Why aren’t you beating John up as well, anyway?”

“He’s working on some project. I’ll get to him later,” said Ronon, dancing around Rod far too nimbly for someone his size.

“Anyway, I think you like it when I turn into the Hulk,” Rod accused, blinking sweat from his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” agreed Ronon. “You ever think what you could do to a Wraith like that?”

Rod stopped still and narrowed his eyes. “What, so you’re jealous? You want to be a green rage-monster, too? Jesus, that’s a terrifying thought.”

“Wouldn’t turn it down,” said Ronon, gesturing at him to get back to their bout. “Bet you could take on a dart, Hulked out.”

“I’m staying well away from the Wraith, thanks very much, until this is all sorted,” said Rod.

Ronon swooped in with a flurry of strikes. Rod fended him off, but took a blow to the thigh and dropped his sticks, clutching his leg. “Ow! Damn it, Ronon, it’s not like I’ve got Carson on tap out here.”

“I’ll get some ice,” said Ronon, trotting through to the makeshift kitchen area. He brought back a cold-pack and slapped it on Rod’s leg, dropping down to sit beside him on the mat. “You’re better than you were,” he said.

“Oh come on, you’re still knocking me down and landing blows. It’s not like I have all that Hulk strength when I’m just me again, although I do seem to be healing faster.”

“You’re looser though, not so…fake. Makes you a better fighter,” said Ronon.

“Fake? You thought I was fake?” Rod spluttered.

“Yeah,” said Ronon, unperturbed.

“I…oh all right, I guess I am often a bit, ah, overly diplomatic. I had to learn to be, back in college.”

“Like you better now,” said Ronon.

“Oh,” said Rod. “I…um. Thanks.”

  
<><><><><>

“I wish the news was better,” said Radek, spreading his hands.

“Carson really can’t find anything?” Rod bit his lip.

“He says not. Your blood samples, he says, are quite normal. Also the scans – all tests are human average.” Radek raised an eyebrow. “Not that we have tested you in Hulk form. I suspect matters would be different then.”

“Yeah. Bit of a sampling problem there, though.”

Radek nodded in wry agreement. “And I confess we are little further ahead with the machine itself.” He held up a hand. “Only non-gene holders are working on it directly, but even so, we have some good people, Rod, and–”

“What, you still can’t figure out what it does with that beam?”

“No, that we have ascertained. Mostly from specifications in the database as to its purpose which Elizabeth helped translate – the technology to retroengineer it is still beyond our grasp.”

“John couldn’t help?”

“Not so much,” said Radek. “He helped with the database search algorithms, but mechanical engineering is not his area of expertise. He has moved on to another project now.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Rod, sighing. He’d been busy with the anger-management sessions, and he hadn’t seen as much of John in the last four weeks. John was always nearby, busying himself in one of the adjoining labs and able to be called at a moment’s notice if anyone triggered a Hulk transformation, but no one had, not since John and Rod’s initial experiments. Everyone was a lot more relaxed around him now, as more time passed and he seemed to be holding it together.

Rod kind of missed having John around, though. He tried not to feel abandoned – John obsessed about projects from time to time and there was nothing to be done about it. He could be stubborn and arrogant – in fact he’d warned Rod off just the other day when Rod went looking for him, refusing to discuss his work or even let Rod in the lab, until it was further along. It had hurt more than Rod had anticipated, but if John was being all possessive and tunnel-vision about a project it was best to leave him to it until he was ready to share. There wasn’t much harm he could do just with his laptop in a dusty disused lab, and he’d promised not to upload anything or change the city’s programming. Rod kept an eye on the servers, even so.

Still, Rod couldn’t help remembering how it had felt to have John stroke his back soothingly, or press warm against his side while they talked. He’d obviously read more into that than was wise. He really should know better.

“So what did you find in the database?” he asked Radek.

“It is as you surmised. The aim is to make recipient resolve some aspect of their self which inhibits them from ascending. It does this by enhancing problem aspect so it cannot be avoided and must be dealt with.”

“So John’s right about it taking the Hulk data out of my memories?”

“Yes. Is designed to bring ‘primitive flaw’, as the system calls it, to life in a way that is meaningful to the recipient.”

“Okay,” said Rod. “So how do we change me back?”

“Ah,” said Zelenka ruefully. “I am not sure that is possible.” Rod glared, and Zelenka spread his hands helplessly. “Ancients were obsessed with Ascension. The system was a one-way path towards that – we cannot yet find a way to reverse the effect.”

“You mean I can only stop Hulking out by actually Ascending? That can’t be right, there must be something…” He trailed off at the sympathetic look on Radek’s face, and looked away, swallowing. Then he stood, fists clenched, using the pain of his fingernails cutting into his palms to stave off the inevitable. “I’m, I’m gonna go outside now. Tell John to leave me to it for a while this time, okay?”

Radek’s eyes widened and he scrambled up, backing away. “You feel it coming on? Now?”

Rod was already running for the outer doors. He only just made it.

  
<><><><><>

“How long… this time?” Rod croaked, eyes screwed up against the light as he fumbled for the canteen John was holding and gulped some water.

John’s voice was strained. “Quarter of an hour as the Hulk, then ten minutes unconscious after I zapped you.”

“Recovery time’s…probably tied to Hulk-time, then,” muttered Rod. “Not just getting shorter with more Hulk-outs.” He struggled up to sit, head in hands, then peered around. “Wait, where are we?” He could see they were outside, surrounded by heaps of toppled masonry. To the left was a tangle of metal Rod recognised as a skywalk from parts of the city where they were still intact, spanning the yawning gulfs between towers. This one looked like it had been tied in a knot. Everything was covered in dust, him and John included.

“Down the end of the South Pier, obviously,” said John. “I had to come get you. By the time Radek found me it was too late, and you’d taken off and were rampaging about.”

Rod stared up at him, appalled. “But that’s horribly dangerous for you. You should have just–”

“What?” asked John, pushing his glasses angrily up his nose. “Left you to it until you’d destroyed the pier or injured yourself? Let you jump in the ocean and swim off to the mainland or around to terrorize the rest of the city? Teyla’s been pretty anxious about the Athosians, you know.”

“I, no, no, of course not. But I’d never harm…” He caught John’s eye and shut his mouth. He might, as the Hulk. He had no control when he transformed. He wiped his mouth, tasting salt and grit. “Why didn’t you zap me from the doors?”

“Tried, didn’t work. The effective range of the fail-safe’s about twenty yards, it turns out.”

Rod winced. “A trifle short-sighted of the Ancients only to have it work up close.”

John shrugged. “Probably never figured anyone’d turn into something like the Hulk. Big green rage-monster’s a long way from all their holier than thou white and beige shit.” He scuffed his foot in the dust. “Why’d you Hulk out?”

Rod stared down at his hands. They ached a little, but there were no injuries he could see. He wondered what he’d smashed with them this time. “Bad news from Radek.” He looked up. “He okay?”

“Yeah,” said John. “Made him get in the transporter, get to safety. He can move pretty fast when he has to.”

“From Prague,” said Rod, and clambered up to his feet. “He’s a survivor.”

“Elizabeth and Sumner won’t be happy,” said John.

“They can get in line,” Rod said grimly.

They started walking back. “Still,” said John. “Least they’re not gonna send you back to Earth.”

Rod stopped dead. “Christ. Jeannie.” He looked at John. “No one’s told her?”

“Don’t think so,” said John. “Probably hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“If we don’t get this sorted I’ll never see Maddie and the boys again.” They resumed walking. Rod kicked a chunk of rubble aside, bruising his toe. “This sucks,” he said despairingly.

“Yeah, but you’re not alone,” said John. Rod glanced across but he was staring straight ahead, glasses smudged, hair thick with dust.

“Ah, yeah, I know. Thanks.”

“You’ll see,” said John.

  
<><><><><>

“You sure about this?” John asked. “Only a day since you Hulked out, and Heightmeyer’s sessions can be rough on you.”

“I think I’ll be all right,” said Rod, touched that John had noticed. “I tend to be…sad, more than angry, talking with Kate.” John nodded awkwardly, shoulders tense. “And you’ll be out here, yeah? With the fail-safe.”

“Yeah,” said John. They’d rigged up a panic button beside Rod’s chair, just in case, since John couldn’t hear what went on in the room and wouldn’t see a transformation coming.

“Okay.” Rod squared his shoulders and pushed open the door.

“Rod, hello, come and take a seat,” said Kate. It was another converted bedroom, with a couple of easy chairs – Earth imports, as the Ancients seemed opposed to comfortable furniture on principle. Maybe they figured if everyone had a sore ass they’d Ascend sooner.

“Kate, hi,” said Rod, and sat. “You heard?”

“About the transformation yesterday? Yes. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty messed up. Guess I was hoping it wasn’t going to happen again.”

“Ah,” said Kate. “Why was that?”

Rod looked up at her sharply. “Why was…why did I think that?” He frowned. “I've been doing a lot of anger management work, you know, these past four weeks.”

“And you thought that you’d resolved the issues causing the anger?”

“Well, no…but I’m not sure they _can_ be resolved.”

“Would it help to talk about them?” Kate asked. She was good at questions. Not so great at answers, but he knew that wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Rod grimaced. “I guess I’ve been avoiding that, in case it, you know, triggered me.”

Kate cocked her head. “We’ve worked quite a bit on relaxation techniques and breathing exercises for you to use if you feel you’re being triggered.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s still pretty scary, though, especially after yesterday.”

Kate nodded. “You feel it’s too soon?”

Rod huffed out a breath and leaned forward, arms on knees and staring at the floor. “I just don’t see that there’s any point, given the risks. I can’t change that I had a shitty father, can’t change the memories I have of him. And I can’t change that the Ancients were obsessed with Ascension to a ludicrous degree and I got caught in one of their insane science projects.”

“There’s nothing else that makes you angry?”

Rods spread his hands. “Oh, please. A zillion things make me angry. That’s the problem.”

“Maybe if we look at what triggered you initially? Would that be a place to start?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure it was any one thing. I’d just been trapped in a beam from that idiot machine and that was unpleasant. Made me feel helpless.”

Kate didn’t take the bait. “I understood that the specific trigger was Dr. Sheppard emerging from the transporter? How did that make you feel?”

Rod looked away. “Not sure I can remember now – it’s all a bit mixed up.”

“It’s hard to talk about John,” Kate said, nodding. Goddamn it, she was relentless.

“Not…hard,” Rod said. “I just, I try not to think about it. We’re friends, teammates.”

“What do you try not to think about?” Kate asked.

Rod frowned at her, annoyed. “About being attracted to him, all right? Satisfied now?” He crossed his arms and scowled.

Kate inclined her head. “You’re worried that being attracted to him is a problem?”

“God, yes,” said Rod. “I mean, there’s the fraternization rules for teammates, and with him being the only one who can operate the fail-safe we’re supposed to be together all the time. It’s like torture.”

“Because of your attraction? Surely the circumstances are unusual enough for the fraternization rules to be waived?”

Rod scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess. Just, I don’t know if I can…keep a lid on it.”

“You think he may see how you feel? Why would that be a problem?”

Rod glared at her. “Well, obviously it would be if he didn’t feel the same way.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t?”

Rod threw up his hands. “I don’t know! He’s never given any real indication that he…we just hang out, we’ve never…”

“You think he should have let you know how he feels?”

“Oh, come on – have you _met_ John? He’s almost incapable of talking about his feelings!”

There was a prolonged pause. Kate regarded him steadily, eyebrows slightly raised. He kind of wanted to punch her, but no, that was anger and anger was bad, so he used the techniques they’d practised. _Clear blue skies, clear blue skies,_ he repeated,slowing his breathing.

“Yeah, okay,” he said after a minute, when he felt back in control again. “Point taken.” He stared at his hands. “I haven’t had a great track-record with relationships, as you know. I guess I’m afraid he may not…want me.” He swallowed.

Kate nodded. “So how does all that tie in with you getting angry when he came out of the transporter?”

“Because he’s an idiot!” Rod waved his hands. “He was concussed, walking wounded. He’d escaped from the infirmary, which is typical – he’s got no self-preservation instincts, none!”

“If that’s true, why is it so hard for you to handle?”

Rod buried his face in his hands. “Because I _need_ him, for fuck’s sake. I need him to survive, to be there, with me. I can’t bear to think of him getting hurt and he _keeps fucking well getting hurt!_ ”

“Breathe, Rod, breathe,” Kate said, and he pulled himself back from the edge just in time. _Clear blue skies, clear blue skies._

Rod slumped back against the chair cushions, feeling drained. Kate watched him, a small line between those perfectly arched brows.

“He did come to find you despite being injured, when he heard you’d been caught in that machine. Would it really be such a risk, to let him know how you feel?”

“Yes,” said Rod. “No. I don’t know.” He looked away. “Anyway, he’s too busy right now. He’s kind of been avoiding me lately.”

“Ah,” said Kate.

  
<><><><><>

John eyed Rod carefully after he emerged from the session with Heightmeyer. Rod was a little flushed, and he said “What? I’m okay, all right?”, then headed off, muttering something about needing to check the power grid.

John rolled his eyes. The power grid was fine – he’d checked it himself only an hour before, and he was far more skilled at detecting problem fluctuations in the relay station data than Rod was. “Yeah, sure,” he said, a little sarcastically. Then, feeling he ought to cut Rod some slack after a Heightmeyer session and Hulking-out and all, called after him, “See you at dinner.”

Heightmeyer herself stepped out into the hallway and nodded at him. “John,” she said pleasantly.

It wasn’t like they knew each other well or that he’d ever see her willingly, but he’d had to see her for mandatory post-mission evals a couple of times. He guessed that gave her the right to call him John. “Kate,” he said blandly, and nodded back. “Good talk?”

Her mouth twitched in a smile, then she walked off to get a transporter back to the central tower.

“Dinner” was just the mutual opening of pre-packaged food in what passed for their lounge.

“Gettin’ a little tired of MREs,” John observed, poking through the contents of his to locate the coffee packet.

“Yeah,” said Rod, nodding. “Sure.”

John poked him. “Oh come on, you actually like the damn things!”

Rod shot him a sidelong glance, then grinned crookedly. “So what if I do? They’re reliable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said John. “You just don’t think it’s cool to admit it.”

“I don’t need to be cool,” protested Rod, a little huffily.

“Oh yeah?” John grinned at him. “So you’re fine with being a geek? I can enroll you in the MENSA club, then?”

“Oh, no, I draw the line at MENSA,” Rod said hastily. “But I am totally a geek, and…and I don’t need to be cool.”

“Yeah, granted, you’re less, I dunno, _slick_ , than you used to be,” said John, tossing Rod his Twinkie and getting a lemon pound cake in return.

“Slick? I was never _slick_. Jesus,” said Rod.

“You kind of were,” said John. “’m sorry about all this,” he waved a hand vaguely to encompass the Hulk weirdness, “but that part’s better.”

“Oh,” said Rod. “Oh, well. Okay. So hit me with something geeky, c’mon.”

John smirked. “Magic pants.”

“What?”

“When you Hulk out. How come you’re always wearin’ little ripped shorts when you’re the Hulk? And then when you come to you’re dressed again like normal, like exploding out of your clothes never happened.”

Rod rolled his eyes. “How should _I_ know what I’m wearing when I’m the Hulk? But I’d guess the machine got that out of my memories as well. Comic book characters who transform always miraculously keep their shorts, and it’s not like the whole thing makes _any_ damn scientific sense!” He shot John a speculative glance. “Magic pants, huh?”

“Oh yeah. All tattered and sexy, kind of molded onto you.”

Rod stared at John and shook his head. “You are a very strange man.”

“Well, yeah,” said John, because, duh. “You never thought the Hulk was hot?”

“Hot? You think I’m hot when I’m the Hulk?” Rod flushed, then looked away, mouth tight. “I guess I can’t compare to that when I’m just plain me again.”

“Oh I dunno,” said John, suddenly reckless. “You do okay.” He gestured at Rod’s shoulders. “In the…with your muscles…” He trailed off, flushing, and ducked his head, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Both their radios crackled and John grasped thankfully at the interruption. _Dr. McKay? Dr. Sheppard?_ It was Weir.

Rod caught his eye and frowned. “Yes? What is it, Elizabeth?”

_We have a situation. Ronon and Teyla went off-world to P8M-436 with AR5 earlier today to provide extra security. It turned out that wasn’t needed – the encampment had been abandoned. However, before they could all return, there was an earthquake, and they were separated from the others. Everyone else has returned safely, but we believe Ronon and Teyla are trapped in a cave under a landslide. The engineers have investigated, but they say it’ll take days to dig them out, and the Daedalus isn’t due back for another three weeks._

“Shit,” said John. “They won’t last that long. They’ll get dehydrated and die.”

 _Yes,_ said Weir. _I’m afraid so._

“But, it’s Ronon and Teyla,” said John helplessly.

_I’m sorry, but it’s a massive landslip. There’s just no way we can get earthmoving equipment through the gate – we need the Daedalus for that._

“Can’t we blast it with C4?” John asked, desperate.

_The geologists say it’s too unstable. Apparently explosives are likely to bring down the whole cliff-face and kill them faster than if we did nothing._

“There must be _something_ we can do,” said John, leaping up and starting to pace. A fucking landslide? No way.

“There is,” said Rod. He was standing as well, one hand to his ear, mouth set in a grim line. “I’ll go. You’re going to need the Hulk. I’ll just walk through the gate and transform.”

“What?” said John, staring at him. “No, Rod, there’s no way you’d remember what you were supposed to do, once you Hulked-out. That’s not gonna work. Anyway, you can’t Hulk-out at will.”

“You think I can’t get angry about a fucking landslide killing Ronon and Teyla?” snapped Rod, his jaw set stubbornly. “And I’ll remember. I’ll have to.”

 _It’s more complicated than that,_ said Elizabeth’s voice. _P8M-436 has a space gate._

“I,” said Rod. “Oh. I don’t know if the Hulk can–”

“Yeah, forget _that_ crap,” John said furiously. “You’re not fucking invincible, even as Hulk. Elizabeth, I’ll fly us both there in a jumper. No one else, just Rod and me. I’ve got the fail-safe so I’d need to be there anyway, and I’ll keep him on task. Get jumper four prepped, we’re on our way.”

 _Well I don’t know–_ said Elizabeth, but John cut her off.

“Yeah, you do. It’s the only way.” He tapped his radio to standby and looked at Rod. “You sure about this?”

“No,” said Rod. “But it’s Ronon and Teyla.” His mouth was a thin line. “Jumper four – that’s your favorite?”

“No,” said John, equally grim. “It’s always been a little hinky. It’s the one we can most afford to lose.”

“Oh,” said Rod. “Right.” His chin went up. “I won’t Hulk out while we’re flying.”

“I know, buddy,” said John. He punched Rod on the arm. “C’mon.”

They turned for the door, but in the hallway, John said hurriedly “Wait, there’s some gear I need. It’ll just take a minute.”

“Jesus, John, move it along,” said Rod impatiently. “We don’t know if they’re injured, or–”

John ran for his lab. It was sooner than he’d planned, but hell, it was ready. He had to test it sometime, and there was no way he was letting Rod go it alone on this one. The case was damned heavy, and he was glad he’d had the foresight to put a handle and wheels on it.

“Hand luggage?” asked Rod incredulously. “You’re bringing _hand_ luggage?”

“Shut up and help me steer it,” said John. “You’ll see. We’ll need it.”

“Oh, for – this is the damn project you’ve been working on, isn’t it?” panted Rod, helping him shove the case into the transporter. “What the hell _is_ it?”

“You’ll see,” said John, and he couldn’t quite keep the grin out of his voice. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

  
<><><><><>

“Oh man, I see what they meant about the earthmoving machinery,” said John, whistling softly. He’d brought the jumper in low once they were in atmosphere, following the signals from Ronon and Teyla’s transponders. Below them, it looked like half a mountain, well, a large hill, had crumbled into a massive tumble of dirt and boulders, scarring the landscape. John looked across at Rod, in the co-pilot’s seat. “Got anything yet?”

“Just the transponders,” said Rod, peering intently at the life-signs detector. “Should be in range any moment…Yes! There they are. Hmmm, well, they’re alive, anyway.”

John felt something tight ease in his chest. “Okay,” he said, aiming for the nearest patch of flat ground. “Hang in, guys, the cavalry’s comin’.”

Twenty minutes later they’d gotten as close as they could to the place Ronon and Teyla’s signals emanated from.

“Off you go then,” said John, gesturing at Rod. “Do your thing.”

Rod looked around, and frowned. “No, this isn’t safe for you. All you can do is de-Hulk me and we don’t want that. You need to get clear – I’m going to be chucking rocks around like popcorn.” He made a shooing motion at John. “Go on, skedaddle!”

“Skedaddle?” muttered John, but he backed off until he was closer to the jumper, shielded behind an intact ridge of rock. “Clear!” he yelled, and hunkered down.

Two minutes later he stuck his head up again. “Rod? I’m clear!” Rod was just standing there, head in his hands. John frowned. “You okay?”

Rod turned towards him, face despairing. “I thought I could manage it, but I spent the whole jumper ride doing breathing and relaxation exercises so’s not to Hulk out. I can’t seem to trigger it now. You’ll have to make me angry!”

“Crap,” said John. He couldn’t repeat what he’d done in their experiments, getting Rod to dredge up the memories of his shithead of a father. Not out here in the open, it wasn’t conducive. There was, however, something that was a sure-fire way to get Rod pissed. “Hang on,” he called. “I need something from the jumper.”

“What?” shouted Rod, squinting at him across the chaos of rock and mud.

“Gimme a few minutes!” shouted John. He cracked the case fastenings and tipped it up on end, grunting, hitting the on-switch to boot up the program. Upended, the case was as tall as he was – well, obviously it would be – and when he had it opened out like a book, all he had to do was back into it, arms out to the sides and legs slightly astride.

“Activate robing program,” he said.

 _Activating_ repeated a metallic voice.

“Commence body robing.”

_Robing commenced._

He’d tested this in the lab, so it wasn’t too startling when the components slid smoothly out and clicked into place around him, slotting together perfectly.

“Attach helm,” he said, his heartrate kicking up a notch.

_Helm activated. Attaching._

“Systems check,” John said. It wasn’t really too different from being a pilot. Just in a really, really small aircraft.

 _Systems are go,_ said the voice. _Power at 100%. Jets fully charged, lasers optimal. Ceding suit control to user._

“Control accepted.” He’d improved on the original, because this was Peagsus and he had the gene. The suit was ATA controlled. He felt it come on line, throwing a glowing heads-up display across his faceplate. It was just like flying a jumper, really, but infinitely more intimate.

John activated the jets with an excitement bordering on ecstasy, only the constant nagging worry about Ronon and Teyla anchoring him as he soared up into the sky to swoop around Rod, looping the loop, jets blazing. He keyed the suit’s built-in radio. “Still think red and gold suits me?”

Rod stared up, spluttering, his face coloring darkly “Where did you, and, and _how?_ Oh for fuck’s sake, John, you insane bastard! Stop it! Get down here this instant before you crash and burn!”

Whoa, Rod was seriously chaneling his mom – he even had his hands on his hips. Then Rod lost it completely and started waving his arms about furiously and screaming, red-faced. “Now look, you fucking suicidal bastard, you may not care want happens to you, but I most certainly–” and whammo, there was the Hulk, looming huge and green, and Jesus he was quick, swiping a vast meaty paw through the air, and what the fuck? Was he trying to smash John to smithereens or catch him? Either way, no thanks.

The Hulk roared in frustration as John eluded him. Okay, so now what? Rod’s radio would be long gone, lost in the transformation. John switched the suit to speaker with a thought.

“Get Ronon! Get Teyla!” he broadcast, but the Hulk just roared and leaped up into the air, swiping a fist so close John was knocked slightly off course and had to pull up and regroup. He gained some altitude, desperately hoping the monster’s acrobatics weren’t making the rockslide worse.

“RONON! TEYLA! GET RONON AND TEYLA!” he thundered as loudly as he could, speaker volume maxed out. “DIG! HULK DIG!”

The Hulk shook his head and peered around, but John was in his blindspot, up behind the back of his head. “DIG! RONON AND TEYLA! DIG!” he trumpeted and finally, fucking finally, the Hulk seemed to remember why they were here and began chucking SUV-sized rocks left and right, clearing a swathe through the landslide towards the buried cave. John kept up the barrage of “TEYLA! RONON! DIG!” and occasionally the Hulk broke off to throw back his head, roaring “HULK DIG!” at the sky. Finally, the Hulk pulled away a huge chunk of rock and tossed it casually aside, exposing a dark crack in the hillside.

“HULK STOP! STOP!” yelled John, then had to buzz him again to distract him. As he led the Hulk off down the slope he saw two faces appear in the hole, peering out, and recognised Ronon’s dreads. The smaller figure – Teyla – was waving at him, but she didn’t seem happy, more agitated. Well, it had to be pretty terrifying with the Hulk rampaging about, and he didn’t think she’d recognize his Iron Man suit – although Ronon probably would; he was a fan of the Avengers, especially Thor.

That was when his suit’s sensors filled with a piercing, high-pitched whine, and four darts broke from the cloud cover and screamed overhead. John swooped back towards the cave, but Ronon and Teyla had ducked down inside. She would have known, of course. That was why she’d tried to signal him.

The darts turned and sped back towards John and the Hulk, who really seemed to hate the screaming whine of their engines. He roared repeatedly, swelling up in size even more, and wow, John had no idea he could even do that. He expanded right into one low-flying dart, sending it spinning off to shatter against a rockface. Another was swiped from the air by a huge green fist as the Hulk roared “HULK SMASH!”, flinging it into a ravine where it exploded messily. The darts were targeting the Hulk with their weapons now but he seemed impervious, roaring and just getting more enraged. One even tried to beam him up before the Hulk swatted it like a gnat, but the white light had no effect at all. Wow! John really hoped Ronon was catching some of this – he’d be loving it.

There was another roar, with a different, more desperate edge to it, and John realized that the last remaining dart had turned and was targeting _him_ now, not the Hulk. He ducked and wove, giving it the slip, and then looped round in kind of a showy move – but hell, he was a flyboy now – and blasted the hell out of it with his forearm lasers set to max. Smoke streamed from the fatally wounded dart and it spun off, spiraling faster and faster until it impacted in a fireball.

John had been swooping to and fro, watching the last dart smash into the ground, so he was a little late noticing the blinking warning in his HUD. Uh-oh – he’d overtaxed the suit firing all his lasers at once. Power levels were dropping fast. He’d been aware of that flaw and had meant to add a back-up power unit, but this crisis had happened before he’d had a chance. He tried to fly the suit down, but the jets were depleted and he’d lost all control. Shit – he was falling, dropping out of the sky like Icarus with melted wings. The last thing he thought before the ground rushed up to meet him was _So long, Rod._

He never impacted. There was a thud, and he hit something a hell of a lot softer than the dirt with a small jolt, and then he was airborne again, swooping up, but the suit was still dead as a dodo so what the fuck? Green, all around him, and a huge toothy face scowling down. Oh crap, the Hulk had snatched him up right before he hit the ground and was clutching him in a giant fist. He had the fail-safe in the suit with him, of course, but if he activated it now he'd be dropped again, and it was too high up to survive the fall.

Green eyes glared down at him. “HULK,” the monster rumbled. He sounded chiding rather than furious, but it was still pretty deafening.

John tried to say “Put me down!”, but the suit’s speakers had no power at all now, so all that came out was muffled squeaking.

Hulk blinked and his brow furrowed. “HULK,” he said, almost wistfully. The giant fist opened, so that John was lying cradled in the hollow of his palm. He felt weirdly safe, kind of like Fay Wray being carried by King Kong, and carried he was, lifted gently down as the Hulk stooped and set him on the ground. “HULK”, he said encouragingly, tipping John off then straightening, peering down. The Hulk took a step back, then another. He seemed to be waiting. Oh, the fail-safe. John thought it on and sent _End Transformation_. The Hulk vanished. Shit, where had Rod ended up? John found the emergency release button inside his gauntlet and the suit opened like a flower, peeling back until he could pull himself free. He struggled to his knees, legs like jelly from the adrenaline.

“Teyla? Ronon?” He called. “It’s safe now, but I gotta find Rod.”

Ronon loomed over him, dreads thick with dirt and a cut on his face, but otherwise unharmed. “Stay here,” said Ronon. “Quicker if I go.” He leaped away across the fallen rocks.

“Yeah, okay,” said John faintly. “Good plan.” He let himself fall back again. Man, he was wiped.

Teyla peered down at him, her hair matted with dirt and a smear of mud on her nose. “Oh, hey, Teyla,” John said, grinning sappily. Endorphins, gotta love ’em. “You got a smudge, right here,” he indicated his own nose.

Teyla’s eyes narrowed. “I am covered with mud, John. I have been in a landslide.”

“I _know_ ,” said John owlishly. “Rod and me, we came to get you. Didya see him Hulk out? Man, he was somethin’ else.”

Teyla cracked a small smile. “We did indeed see – you might say we had ringside seats. It was spectacular. Thank you for rescuing us.”

“Nah, no worries,” said John. “You’d do the same for us.”

“We would indeed,” said Teyla solemnly. She looked up. “Ronon? Is he well?”

“Yeah, but he’s out cold.”

Ronon was cradling Rod in his arms. John scrambled up and checked him, but Ronon was right, he seemed fine, just unconscious.

“If you feel able to operate the jumper we should leave,” said Teyla. “The darts were but scouts, but there may be more following.” She helped him pick his way through the rubble.

“Enjoy the show, big guy?” John asked Ronon, as they got near enough to operate the hatch. It lowered and Ronon carried Rod inside, laying him carefully down on one of the benches, on his side.

Ronon straightened, grinning toothily. “You bet,” he said, and ruffled John’s hair. “Iron Man, huh? You guys were great. Best time I’ve had in years.” He looked around. “Where’s the suit?”

John waved a hand back towards the cave. “Over there. It ran out of juice.” He settled beside Rod and checked his pulse. Regular, strong. Rod made a noise in his throat.

“Okay,” said Ronon. “I’ll get it. That case part of it, too?”

“Yeah,” said John. “Thanks.”

Rod’s eyes flickered open. “Buh,” he said. “Nhh.” He shook his head.

“Easy, buddy,” said John, holding a canteen for Rod to drink. He was always thirsty afterward. “You remember anything?”

“Fuzzy. Lil bits. More than before,” croaked Rod, and took another swallow.

“You were pretty amazing,” said John. “Saved all our asses when those darts came.”

“Darts? Oh, right, darts.” Rod shivered. “Horrible things.”

“Saved me, too,” said John quietly. “When the suit ran out of power. Thanks.”

Rod stared at him blearily. “Suit? what…” His gaze sharpened. “Oh my fucking _god_. You idiot, John, how could you!” he clipped John across the ear.

“Ow, and hey, no, don’t Hulk out on me there, buddy. Clear blue skies, clear blue skies. C’mon now, deep breaths.”

Rod glared, but let his breathing slow and sank back onto the bench, one arm across his eyes. “You,” he said, voice slightly muffled. “Are _so_ goddam grounded.”

“Yeah, I know. Damn thing’s out of power so I gotta fix that anyway.”

Rod sat up and poked him in the chest. “No! Grounded!” He frowned. “How in hell did you make it, anyway? It looked precision-machined and you’re a mathematician, not an engineer.”

John grinned. “You’re gonna love this. I found a machine in the labs there, a fabricator. Give it the raw materials and program it right, and it’ll make any damn thing you want. It was mostly a coding job in the end.”

“A fabricator? You found a _universal fabricator_ and used it to make an _Iron Man_ suit?”

“Yeah,” said John. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Give me fucking strength,” said Rod. And John really wasn’t expecting to be clipped around the ear again, but at least Rod was letting his anger out, not bottling it up.

“That’s the spirit,” he said, and just for the hell of it, he pulled Rod in and kissed him.

  
<><><><><>

“I don’t see how Elizabeth can just confiscate my suit,” John complained, as Rod dragged him away from the conference room where they’d been debriefing.

Rod snorted. “She most certainly can, and if she hadn’t I would have. The damn thing’s a death-trap.”

“It is not. It’s got multiple redundancies and built-in back-ups. It just needs an extra power unit and–”

“John? Shut up,” said Rod, almost pushing him through the door into his room. Rod crossed his arms and glared. “Do you want to argue or d’you want to try more kissing?”

“Oh, right.” John felt his ears heat up. He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Um, kissing?”

“Yeah, c’mere,” said Rod, and took John’s glasses off, setting them down on the desk. Everything went soft-focused but that didn’t matter as Rod’s mouth was hot and John got lost in it for a while, before becoming aware that he was humping Rod’s hip, and Rod’s cock was pressed hard against his thigh.

“Bed,” said Rod hoarsely, pushing him down, “and clothes off, now.”

“Mmmm,” said John, curling up to kiss Rod again as he leant over John on the bed, desperately fumbling with his pants. John let his mouth slide down Rod’s chest and latched onto a nipple, sucking and biting as he helped Rod pull off his clothing.

“Jesus,” Rod groaned, and he arched his back and held John’s head to his chest, fingers scratching restlessly through John’s hair as John hummed happily and sucked the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god, you’ll be the death of me,” Rod gasped. John fell back on his elbows, smirking, and Rod went to work, divesting him of pants and shirt in record time.

“Underwear, too,” ordered Rod, “come on, off, off, off, all of it off!”

“Yours too,” said John, “I wanna feel your–”

“Yes, god, come here,” said Rod, kicking his boxers away frantically and almost ripping John’s shorts down. They were his favorite ones, black with Euler’s formula printed all over in white, but John was past caring. He’d never seen Rod so intent, pushy and hot-eyed as he pressed John back into the bedclothes and licked up his neck.

A pulse of heat shot through John, and he writhed up, rubbing their cocks together. “Hold me down,” he gasped. “Rod, please.”

Rod trapped his wrists in one hand, above his head. “Like that?”

John shuddered, back arched, trying to twine his legs around Rod’s and pull him down for more of that sweet, hot friction. “ Ngggh, yeah. Like that. I like feeling you hold me.”

Rod’s eyes narrowed. “Like the Hulk, huh? Is that what you want? Big green monster holding you down and fucking you?”

“N-no,” gasped John, getting his leg over Rod’s and rutting against him. “I want _you_ , want the Hulk in _you_ , all that strength.”

“Oh,” Rod said, flushing. “Yes, okay, I can do that,” and he trapped John’s legs under his, wrapping himself around John like a boa constrictor, their groins pressed tight and one hand clamped to each of John’s wrists, holding John splayed out and writhing beneath him.

“Kiss me,” John moaned, hips bucking, their cocks sliding together perfectly, and Rod took his mouth, no softness now, just heat and hunger, devouring.

John’s back arched as his hips bucked, and he felt the fire coil up in his belly, unstoppable. His cock jerked and his balls drew up and he was gone, coming apart as Rod held him down and kept him safe, like being cradled in the Hulk’s hand, warm and protected.

“Look at you,” groaned Rod, “Oh my god, _John_ ,” and John felt him coming, too, pulsing against John’s belly as he buried his face in John’s neck, shuddering through it.

John drifted for a while, then Rod pulled back, making a face. “Messy,” he said.

“Yeah,” John agreed muzzily, grinning up even though it was all hazy without his glasses. He didn’t mind that right now, warm and melting in a soft-edged world.

Rod cleaned them up, then John pulled him down and curled around him. “You’re a snuggler,” observed Rod, sounding pleased.

“Mmmm,” agreed John, pushing his nose further into Rod’s neck while Rod petted his hair.

Rod sighed. “We could have been doing this months ago, years, even. Why haven’t we been doing this?”

“Idiots,” muttered John into his neck.

“Absolutely,” said Rod. “It’s even worth this Hulk thing.” He kissed the top of John’s head.

“Sorry ’bout Jeannie ’n th’kids,” whispered John.

“Oh, it’ll be all right. You probably didn’t hear – you were too busy arguing with Elizabeth about who got custody of the damn suit.”

“Did’n hear what?” John murmured into Rod’s ear, sucking gently on the lobe.

“Quit that, it tickles,” Rod said, and giggled. John did it again.

“You’re impossible. What I’m trying to tell you is that I was talking to Radek. He’s very excited about the universal fabricator. Says that with the research they’ve done in the database on that thing that zapped me, and the fabricator, he’s pretty sure they can build a machine to reverse it.”

John went still. “No more Hulk-outs?”

“No more Hulk-outs. But I bet Ronon tries to get Elizabeth to let him get Hulkified. He was very taken with the Hulk’s Wraith-fighting abilities.”

“She won’t let him.”

“No, no chance of that. Anyway, he wouldn’t be the Hulk. Probably be Godzilla or the Satedan equivalent.”

They rested for a while, then John said sleepily. “Make you a suit like mine, to make up for it.”

Rod snorted. “You most certainly will _not_ make me a suit-o-death, because I am not a crazy person. Also you’re so very, very grounded and Radek’s got your suit so that he can study the fabricator.”

“Radek’s a dirty thief, and you’re no fun,” John grumbled, snuggling in further. Rod was good for snuggling. Maybe John could get him to wear a fleece instead of that leather jacket?

“Oh, give me a little more recovery time,” said Rod smugly, “and I think you’ll find I’m all the fun you can handle.”

  
<><><><><>

It was very late. The city was asleep, only a few guards patrolling the residential areas and labs. There was no one out on the South Pier. No one but Radek.

He’d been in John’s lab studying his notes on the fabricator and the suit, and had recharged the power pack. It would be easy enough to re-engineer the suit so it wasn’t ATA-dependent and he could fly it. A basic cybernetic interface with controls in the gauntlets, maybe a wrist-pad.

Radek wondered if the fabricator could make tiny little power packs. It would be nice to have pigeons again, even if they were robo-pigeons. They could fly together, swooping and diving through the towers of the city. He let his head sink down onto his arms, dozing on the bench, and dreamed of flying.

  
<><><><><>

the end

 


End file.
